


Humor Me

by dragonashes



Series: Quintessence: Undertale One-shots [18]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Spoilers - Undertale Pacifist Route, Ventriloquism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 00:17:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9938978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonashes/pseuds/dragonashes
Summary: Frisk didn't want to go to her grandma's friend's ventriloquism performance.  She was supposed to be going to a sleepover!And what's up with that ventriloquist dummy?On second thought, this might not be so boring after all.





	

“Thanks, folks!  You’ve been a great audience!”

“Yep.”

“We had fun today, didn’t we?”

“We sure did!  Do you know how much fun we had?”

“How much?”

“A skele-ton!”

The audience laughed.  Frisk laughed, too.  She’d been a little nervous, going to see a ventriloquist - she’d heard from the kids at school that ventriloquist dummies are creepy - but the show had been amazing!  The jokes and special effects had been really great, and the dummy had seemed almost...alive.

That was surprising, considering…

Well.

She was _unbelievably_ curious.

“That’s all, folks!”  The ventriloquist stalked off the stage to applause and catcalls, his white hair swaying a little from the force of his retreat.

Frisk sat back in her chair.  Mom and Dad had come to the show because Gramma Jenny (Mom’s mom) had been friends with the ventriloquist way back in college.  He’d been known as “Jerry” back then instead of “Gerald the Voice.”  They had kept in touch - not really close friends anymore, but just normal people who were friendly and wrote letters to each other - and Gramma Jenny had wanted to see him again.

Then she’d fallen on a patch of ice and hurt her hip, and going to the show was out of the question.  Mom and Dad had decided to take Frisk instead, which Frisk found disappointing.  She was going to miss Terra’s sleepover!

It hadn’t been nearly as boring - or as scary - as she’d thought it would be.  It was almost - _almost_ \- worth missing a sleepover.  Still, Frisk had a hankering for an adventure.  She felt she deserved one, after the grown-ups made plans without her.

Mom and Dad were taking their time leaving the theater.  It was easy - almost too easy - to slip away from them where they sat, chatting with the people in the row behind them.  Mom and Dad knew lots of people; even a trip to the grocery store with them could be agonizingly long for Frisk.

She wondered how long it would take for them to notice that she was missing this time.

The backstage access in the old theater was easy to find.  It was a plain wooden door across from the concession stand marked “BACKSTAGE” in blocky painted letters.  It looked like someone had written a dirty joke underneath it; the words were just visible enough through the sloppy cover-up paint job to make Frisk blush.

The knob turned easily, much to her surprise.  She took a good look around her - grown-ups usually overlooked her, though some of them had a knack for sensing trouble - but it looked like no one was around.  The concession stand was closed and most of the people were congregated by the exits and the women’s restrooms.

Cracking the door open, Frisk caught a glimpse of a long, dark hallway.  She didn’t really know what to expect from backstage, having been in exactly two plays in her life (both of which were held in her school cafeteria), but she’d expected something...brighter.  She opened it a little wider and noticed light pooling out from under several doorways further down.

With one last glance, just in case a nosy grown-up had decided to look her way, Frisk slipped inside.

The hallway seemed brighter when it wasn’t competing against the harsh fluorescent lights of the theater lobby.  A bare bulb hung, unlit, in the center of the hallway, but the light from under the doors was enough for Frisk to see.  The hallway was narrow and felt a little like it was closing in on her, but someone had still found room to hang black-and-white pictures of old people on the walls.

A brief noise from down the hallway caught Frisk’s attention, and she remembered her mission.  She wanted - no, _needed_ \- to see that dummy!

One of the doors creaked a little and Frisk froze.  She counted - _one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi_ \- but nothing else happened.  Carefully, listening so hard her ears felt almost stretched, she crept closer.

The room inside looked like a storage room.  Stacks of boxes lined the walls in a haphazard fashion, topped with props and decorations.  There was what looked like a changing area set up against the far wall with a mirror propped up on a desk, several racks of costumes, and a large black trunk.  From what she could see in the thin crack between the door and the doorframe, there was no movement and no sound.  She waited several moments; when no one yanked the door open and demanded to know who she was and why she was creeping around, she put one hand on the door -

One of the doors further down the hallway rattled, like someone was messing with the knob.  She couldn’t afford to be slow and quiet anymore!  She threw herself into the room and closed the door almost all the way, then glanced around frantically for a hiding space.

There!  A stack of boxes in the corner was topped with a convenient lamp.  It looked just barely big enough to hide Frisk, if she crouched down and was very, very quiet.

She managed to get herself into position just as the door to the room opened.  Her heart jumped again as she caught a glimpse of the ventriloquist, carrying his dummy gently against his chest like a toddler.

“...And I appreciate the shed puns as much as the next man, but please run them by me first, alright?”

“Okay,” said the dummy.  “Tough crowd tonight, huh?”

“Well, yes.  I grew up not too far from here.  There’s an old saying about prophets never being respected in their hometowns.  I think the same applies to comedians.  Folks just think you’re a hometown boy, not a hardworking entertainer.”

“Eh, no biggie.  You filled the house and got a few good laughs; that’s what counts, right?”

Something seemed...off.  Sure, the kids at school told horror stories about ventriloquist dummies being alive, but that wasn’t...real, right?  She shifted, but the ventriloquist had moved too far into the room for her to see him around the boxes.  Great for hiding, but not so great for spying.

_And yet…_

“Yes,” the ventriloquist was saying, “I _am_ glad we got such a good audience.  I’d heard Jenny was going to be here, but I didn’t see her in the crowd.  I’d like to step into the lobby to see if I can catch her.”

“No way!  Jenny White, from the letters?”

_...Why was the ventriloquist dummy speaking?_

“The very same!”  There was a shuffle, but Frisk couldn’t see what was moving.  “How do I look, old boy?”

_"Tibia_ honest, I’m sure she’d be happy _tie_ see you, buddy.  Gah - stop, you’re making it worse.  Let me...there we go.  Go out and knock ‘er dead, yeah?”

The ventriloquist left.  Frisk remained very, very still.  She half-expected the dummy to sit up and start talking again, but everything was silent.

Okay.   _Okay_.  It was fine.  It was just a slightly creepy old man who, for unknown reasons, talked to himself when he was alone in his room.

Right?

Or...had he known that Frisk was there?  Had he been trying to trick her?

She braced herself, feeling a strong swell of _something_ grip the pit of her stomach.  It blotted out her fear and worry and left her feeling...determined.

She stood up abruptly, catching the lamp when it wobbled.  She thought she heard something clattering, but when she looked around nothing was moving.

She stepped around the boxes, tip-toeing just in case.

The dummy sat on the desk, leaned up against the mirror.  It was bigger than Frisk thought it would be.  She wondered how the ventriloquist moved it around so easily, but then again, it _was_ a skeleton.  It probably didn’t weigh a lot.

It looked a little...silly, up close.  It didn’t really look like the human skeletons Frisk had seen in science books.  The hands and what she could see of the arms that disappeared into the sleeves of its snazzy tuxedo were thicker and more rounded, looking almost like human hands and arms despite their lack of skin.  They didn’t look at all like the x-ray Frisk had in her closet from when she’d broken her arm in third grade.

The skull was rounded, with actual cheeks and a slightly wrinkled forehead.  Frisk carefully ran a finger along the crease, being extra careful so she didn’t knock the dummy over.  It felt a little squishy, like rubber.  She wondered if the face could be molded into different expressions.  The wide grin was starting to get a little creepy.

The eye sockets were strange.  They were black holes, not at all like what Frisk remembered human eye sockets looking like.  Wasn’t there supposed to be something there?  She thought she remembered something in human eye sockets to hold eyes, which made sense, right?  But...hadn’t there been little white dots in the dummy’s eyes when it had been onstage?  How did the ventriloquist _do_ that?

Tilting her head to the side, she caught a faint glow on one of the eye sockets.  It looked almost like the reflection of light off drying paint, visible without being shiny.  She inched a finger closer.  She wondered if it was squishy, like jelly…

“Yeah, no, kid.”

Frisk screamed and leapt backwards, the motion sending her tripping into a chair.  Unfortunately, she had too much momentum and toppled over the other side of the chair before hitting her shoulder on the floor.

She lay still for a long moment.   _What the HECK??_  Was the dummy actually alive?  How?  Had she just stuck her hands all over someone’s _face??_

“I, uh, can still see you.  C’mon out and talk, huh?”

Frisk curled in on herself, willing herself to be small and unnoticeable.  She thought she heard a sigh, but it sounded funny and she couldn’t be sure.

“Uh, you okay there, kid?  If you don’t come over here and talk, I’m gonna call someone.”

Frisk sat up.

“Hey, there you are, kiddo!”  The dummy waved its - his? - hand at her.  “Hey!  So, uh, do you usually try to poke people’s eyes out?  Doesn’t seem like a very nice way to greet a new friend.”

She sat, shakily, onto the traitorous chair.  “Y-you’re _alive."_   All the strength she’d felt earlier seemed to have drained out of her.  Mostly, she just felt tired.  And a little scared.   _Talking skeletons,_  after all.

The dummy - or whatever he was - turned his head.  Those little white lights had reappeared in the black jelly that filled his eye sockets, making him look at least ten times friendlier.  “I...yeah.  Yeah.  I’m...alive?”  He said it like a statement that was just vague enough to be a question.

“You’re not sure?”

“No, no...I’m alive, really.  I’m just surprised that you came to that conclusion.”

Frisk puzzled the big word over in her head.  “Oh.  I mean...well, you’re talking, aren’t you?  Talking on your own, I mean.  You can move and stuff, right?”

“Yeah, sure.  How d’ya know I’m not a robot or something?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.  “You made _puns.”_

He laughed so hard Frisk was worried he’d fall off his desk or knock over the mirror or something.  “Yeah, yeah I did.  Man, you sound like my brother.”

“You have a _brother?”_  The thought of two little skeletons punning at each other with a dumbfounded ventriloquist standing awkwardly behind them made her smile.

“Yeah.  Oh, he’s a lot taller than me.  Almost as tall as Jerry, really.  I got the short bones.”

Frisk giggled.  “O-oh, sorry.  I shouldn’t laugh.  Mom says it’s rude to laugh at someone.”

“Hey, no skin off my back.  You’d have to be a dummy not to laugh at my jokes, huh?”  He waved his hands in a jazzy fashion, inviting more laughter.  “But hey, how’d you find your way back here, anyways?  I thought this place was supposed to be empty except for Ol’ Jer and I.”

She looked down and shuffled her feet.  “O-oh.  I, um, I snuck in.  I was…curious.”  It seemed awful to say, knowing that he was a real person and not just a fancy doll.

“Oh?  Why?”

“The dummy - you, I mean - looked too...real.”

There was silence.  Frisk looked up to find the skeleton staring at her.  She couldn’t read his expression.  “I...I’m sorry-”

“No.  N-no, it’s fine.  It’s just…” he laughed, but it didn’t sound very happy, “I guess I’m so used to being a dummy that...I’m not quite used to being a real person, y’know?”

She nodded.  It did sound pretty awful.  “So...I don’t mean to be rude, but what...are you?  I mean, I’m pretty sure you’re not human, but I’m not sure what else you could be?”

The skeleton’s grin widened, and he stuck out a hand.  “Oh!  I’m Sans, Sans the skeleton.  I’m a monster.  Have you ever heard of them?  There aren’t many of us.”

She took Sans’s hand and gave it a hearty shake.  “Nice t’meet you, Mr. Sans the skeleton!  I don’t think I’ve ever met a monster, but I might have heard about them once from Ms. Charelle at school.  She’s the history teacher, and she knows almost everything.”

“Oh?   _Almost_ everything?”

Frisk grinned.  “She doesn’t know about the secret candy stash Blake has been hiding in her bottom desk drawer all year.”

Sans laughed again, for real this time, and Frisk smiled.  She liked making people laugh!  Especially Sans, who had one of those laughs that made her want to laugh too.

“You’re a good kid.  Well, when you’re not breaking and entering, that is.”

“...Oh.  Right.”  She shuffled her feet again.  She could feel her face growing hot.

“Hey, don’t sweat it.  How old are you, kid?”

Frisk mentally counted the days.  “Eleven and nine months and three days.  Almost twelve.”

“Heh.  Yeah.  You’re practically grown up, aren’t you.”  Frisk had heard that before, but Sans said it differently.  He said it sincerely, not like most grown-ups or older kids who said it like they were mocking a little baby.

Which Frisk _definitely_ wasn’t.

“Yeah!  I’m gonna be the best grown-up ever!  I’m gonna stay up late and eat candy before bedtime, and read stories and make people laugh!  I’m not gonna be a stuffy old lady!”  She put her hands on her hips and put on her best serious face.

“Wonderful!  Then you’d fit right in here!”

Frisk froze.  Sans was looking over Frisk’s shoulder.  He wasn’t the one who had spoken.

Slowly, she turned on the chair to peek over the back.  The ventriloquist was standing in the doorway.

“O-oh, um, hi,” she said, “Did you know Sans is alive?”

The ventriloquist laughed.  “I am well aware, little one.  He’s the best joke partner an old man like me could ask for!  And you must be Frisk Walker, hmm?  Your parents are looking for you.”

Dread filled Frisk’s heart, only to dissipate when she heard Sans mutter, “More like Frisk _Fall-_ er.”

She couldn’t help it; she giggled again.

“Sans,” the ventriloquist said, in a tone that was probably supposed to be scolding and fell pretty short.  “Anyways, Frisk, we’d better get you out to your parents, hmm?”

“O _kay_ ,” she said.  She turned and waved.  “G’bye, Sans!  See you later, hopefully!”

“Bye, Frisk,” he said, waving back.

Frisk smiled.  She felt much better -

A hand came down firmly on Frisk’s shoulder, steering her into another room.  She felt a little faint, like she had when she first heard Sans speak.  “U-um...wait, stop-”

They stopped inside the doorway of what appeared to be another, smaller storage room.  The ventriloquist closed the door quietly and stared down at Frisk, looking a lot more serious than he had earlier.  “So, Frisk Walker.  What am I going to do with you, young lady?”

“T-take me back to my parents?”  The question came out much less confident than she’d hoped, more like a plea than a joke.

The ventriloquist huffed anyways.  “Yes, yes, in a moment.  I take it you don’t understand the seriousness of what you did?  No?  Well, I’ll explain it to you.  You look like a bright young woman.

“Monsters came up from the Underground, where they were trapped for centuries, about twelve years ago.  It doesn’t matter how; just know that they were Underground for a long time, then they were set free.

“The problem is that a lot of monsters were very angry with humans.  It had been humans who trapped them down there in the first place, after a big fight between humans and monsters.  No, no questions.  Just listen.

“So monsters weren’t happy with humans.  We humans, as it turned out, didn’t like being attacked by monsters.  Both sides were very convinced that they were right, but in the end, the humans won.  It wasn’t even a big fight.  Do you know what that means?  They don’t really talk much about it in school, I imagine.”

“No,” Frisk said to both questions.

“I thought not.  Well, no one wanted to kill monsters or stick them back Underground.  They might look different, but they’re still people; they didn’t deserve that.  We settled for a...mentorship program, of sorts.  Basically, a human can vouch for a monster.  The human is held responsible for the monster’s actions, and the monster is allowed to live in relative freedom in exchange.

“I was a volunteer at one of the monster refugee camps not too long after the war; I helped out however I could during the day, and did shows for the monsters and the other volunteers in the evenings.  That’s how I met Sans.  He was a comedian back in the Underground, you see.  He made some suggestions, and they were a hit.  Eventually we decided to take our show on the road!  He won’t go anywhere without his brother, so they both came with me.

“It’s not...perfect, of course.  We tried doing a monster-human act in the early days, but there was a lot of bad feelings towards monsters back then.  Too many people had been hurt or killed during the war.  So we moved halfway across the country and tried again, with Sans acting as a ventriloquist dummy.”

“How does that even _work?_ _”_  Frisk asked, unable to contain herself.

“Haha!  Well, he wears a harness under his suit with a handle on the back that lets me move him up and down.  It’s a bit like the harnesses folks wear to fly across the stage in theater; it redistributes his weight.  Not super comfortable, but it does its job.  The rest he does himself.

“Do you know why I’m telling you all this?”

Frisk shook her head.  She’d been wondering that herself.

“It’s because I need you to keep a secret.  See, no one knows that Sans is a real person.  He doesn’t look like a human skeleton, so most folks just assume.  Every once in a while, though, we’ll get a curious person - like yourself - who gets a little too close.  No one’s ever actually talked with him, though; that’s a bit surprising.  He usually just plays dead until folks get bored.  Not pleasant for him, really.  I try not to leave him alone.  I...got careless today.”

“Oh.  I-I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“Oh, sweetie, you didn’t.  Sans is fine - he would’ve called me if he wasn’t - and you’re fine and I’m fine.  And your parents will be fine, as soon as we get you back out to them.”

“I promise I’ll keep your secret, Mr. Ventriloquist.”

“Haha!  Thanks, Miss Frisk.  And ‘Jerry’ is fine.  All my friends call me Jerry.”

Frisk nodded, her face serious, and shook the hand Jerry offered.  “Okay then, Jerry.  I’ll keep your secret.  Well, Sans’s secret, I guess.”

“Thanks.  We both appreciate it.”  Jerry opened the door and waved his hand, letting Frisk exit the room first.

They walked back down the hallway together.  Frisk resisted the urge to turn around and say good-bye to Sans again.

“Don’t worry,” Jerry said as they approached the door back to the lobby.  “You’ll see us again, I’m sure of it.  It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Sans take such a shine to someone.  I’m sure you two will be great friends.”

“Okay.”  Frisk wasn’t sure if nearly poking someone’s eye out counted as friendship, but she didn’t want to get in trouble.

“And write to us sometime, won’t you?  Your Grandma Jenny has the address.  Just be sure not to show the letters to anyone, okay?”

“Okay!”

They stepped back out into the lobby.  No one was looking at them, though Frisk could see a gathering of people still over by the women’s restroom.

“This way, Miss Frisk.  Your parents were over by the front door, last I looked.”

“Okay!”

Frisk skipped after Jerry, humming to herself a little.  What a day!  She’d missed the slumber party, sure, but she’d wound up with two super-secret friends.

She couldn’t _wait_ to write them a letter!

.oO0Oo.

“So...what was that about, Sans?”

“She’s the one.”

“That was melodramatic, even for you.  You’re not a movie villain.  She’s the one _what?"_

“Frisk is the one you’ve been looking for, the one who’s going to change the world.  Or, at least, take over your act.”

“What - her?  She’s ten!”

“Eleven, nine months, and three days.  Almost twelve.”

“...I’m not even going to ask how you know that.”

“Probably for the best.  I’m serious, though, Jerry.  I think she’s going to take over for you...in _both_ of your roles.”

“She’s a child.  I’m not even sure she’s interested; and if she is, she’ll need training.  There’s no such thing as a natural.  This - what we do - is a lot of work, more work than most kids want to invest into anything these days.”

“Trust me on this; she’ll do it.  I can tell.  She’s the sort of person who will do anything she sets her mind to.  She’s...determined.”

“Well, fine.  I can see you’ve got your mind set on this.  What do you propose we do about it, though?  She lives here, and we...travel.  A lot.”

“You’re not getting any younger.  Why not take a year off?  Spend some time around here.  Your house is still standing, last I checked.  Paps’ll be happy to be able to clean the old place up and to get out of hotel rooms.  Working for monster personhood can be done here just as easily as on the road; heck, it’ll probably be easier to have a base of operations.

“As for work, wasn’t there that part-time opportunity with the local library system you were eyeing?  You can do that, and maybe pick up that school gig too.  Take Frisk on as an apprentice.  You won’t be free until nearly Summer anyways; she can spare some time then.”

“And if she doesn’t want to?  Dusty old backstage storage rooms are hardly exciting to most young ladies.”

“But secrets are.  Let her spend some time with us - you, me, and Paps - and it should make up for the...less exciting parts of the job.  Well, jobs.”

“...You really are set on this.”

“Yep.”

“Then fine.  We’ll finish out the tour, then…”

“Then we’ll see what skeletons little Miss Frisk has in her closet.”

“...That doesn’t even make sense, Sans.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Poor Sans. That last line sounded better in his head. He really does have a flair for the dramatic, you can't tell me he doesn't. Mr. Whoopee Cushion.
> 
> If it wasn't clear, Gerald has two jobs: he's a ventriloquist, and he works to heal the wounds left by the second monster-human war. Basically, monsters left the Underground shortly after Frisk was born. Without Frisk, they were still - in the words of Bratty and Catty - "hyped for the destruction of humanity." This doesn't work as well as they'd hoped, and there's some bad feelings. Jerry here is trying to convince both monsters and humans to heal up, and knows he needs someone else to carry on his work in the next generation. He'd not sure why Sans wants to work with Frisk. Sans may not know himself.
> 
> This is one of those worlds I might write more for someday, along with the one "Videre" takes place in. This is where the muse cut off, and I haven't posted anything in a few weeks due to family emergencies, so this is where I'll leave things for now.
> 
> If you want to read more of my work, please check my author profile or the series, "Quintessence: Undertale One-shots." There's quite a bit there. I'll be posting one-shots until I manage to wrangle one of my wild multi-chaptered stories into a satisfying conclusion.


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